This Isn't San Francisco
by purrpickle
Summary: It's the day before Valentine's Day, but Rachel isn't sure she should be excited. Established Pezberry. One-shot, complete.


**A/N: **I don't own Glee nor the characters within. The urge to write this fic came out of nowhere, but I was determined to hammer it out in time to make it before Valentine's Day ended. Somehow, I managed that.

...No, I know how I managed it. I managed it because I don't have a beta and haven't really read this over so god knows it's rough and not polished. I apologize in advance.

Happy Valentine's Day!

* * *

It was the day before Valentine's Day, and Rachel was beyond frustrated.

"No," Santana gasped, wrenching her mouth away with a pained look on her face, "Baby, we can't. Oh _god_." Looking down at Rachel's cleavage on display and pelvis pushed close to hers, she dropped her head back to hit the headrest, "When did you straddle me?"

Dipping her head, nipping at Santana's throat so nicely presented to her, Rachel slid her hands further underneath her girlfriend's dark tank top, never been happier that she hadn't changed from her bikini top so it meant easy access. "Mmm…" she husked, sucking underneath Santana's jaw, "I love how you're still wet from the lake."

"That's not the only reason I'm wet," Santana muttered, groaning as Rachel's hands finally made it to her breasts, body arching as her palms urged Rachel's hips closer to hers, "_Rache_."

Whimpering, moving her head to pepper kisses along the side of Santana's face, Rachel pressed her forehead into the headrest as well to give herself more support to hunch herself into Santana's abs, grinding against her as best as she could. "Please," she breathed, fingers curling and uncurling around Santana's breasts, shivering at how hard her nipples were against her palms, "It's been so _long_."

Abruptly, Santana froze. "Oh god," she hissed, sounding angry and frustrated at herself, body still twitching as it reached for Rachel's, "It _has_ to be longer still." Hands plucking at Rachel's shirt and shifting not in ways that helped any of the heat coursing through her veins, Santana somehow managed to get the door of her car open, sliding out in a clumsy mix of pushing Rachel off of her and keeping her on the seat. Once outside, she walked around the car door to collapse back into the side of her car, breathing raggedly and clenching her hands into fists.

Feeling bereft and hurt and still so, _so_ turned on, Rachel carefully extracted herself from the driver's seat, having to lean back against the wheel uncomfortably to pull her legs up. "San?" she stepped out, muscles protesting from getting stretched in weird ways.

"God _dammit_. Baby. Why do you _do_ that?" Meeting Rachel's eyes through the window, Santana swallowed and dropped her head back against the car. "You can't," she pleaded hoarsely.

"Is it because we're in public?" Rachel finally managed. Cold from hurt and confusion and shame welling up inside of her, she wrapped her arms around herself as the wind from the lake played over her damp clothes. "Because… We can go to your house. Or mine if you don't want to chance running into your parents again."

"_No_." Catching Rachel's flinch, Santana softened her voice, walking around to gently pull Rachel into her arms. "I'm sorry," she whispered, kissing her softly, attempting a smile, "I'm just tired. The lake really wore me out. Why don't we grab something to eat and go back to my house to chill 'til your 'rents come back from the movies?"

Burying her face into Santana's neck, Rachel nodded. She didn't trust herself to say anything. It was obvious that was a lie. It was obvious Santana didn't want her, and it was obvious Rachel would never find out why.

* * *

Everything had been wonderful, perfect even until about a month ago. Rachel and Santana had gotten together the summer between junior year and senior year, and had become sexually active in December, Rachel's birthday present to herself. It was amazing, Santana had been so patient and _good_, and they'd been like bunnies ever since. Rachel couldn't get enough of Santana, and Santana couldn't get enough of Rachel.

Until Santana's birthday. Having dressed up in lingerie after executing the best birthday party she could have, Rachel remembered how almost desperate Santana had seemed that night, never slowing and coaxing more and more orgasms out of each other until the early morning. She'd wrapped herself around Rachel, whispering, "I love you," just as Rachel was falling asleep, and it was the best night of Rachel's life.

But the next day and the next week, they hadn't touched each other. Figuring it was just because the both of them were so busy with schoolwork and glee and cheerleading, Rachel didn't think much of it. Santana still held her between classes, and they traded slow, passionate kisses whenever they could. They managed a couple of dates, and it was lovely. Rachel was in love with Santana, and she was secure in the knowledge that Santana loved her back.

Except the days and weeks started going by, and when they had the _time _to actually spend with each other and make love, Santana had started making excuses or stopping it before they got too far. She was just as attentive and wonderful and head-strong as she always had been, and they still had their fights and upsets, but when it came time for makeup sex, it was only makeup macking, and Santana's hands had stopped roaming when she got Rachel alone.

Rachel had tried to push the suspicion away, telling herself she was just making everything up, but still the ugly pool of certainty she was lacking something Santana wanted anymore in her stomach kept on growing.

She'd been _aching_ for Santana. _Needing_ Santana to show her she still wanted her. And she'd almost gotten it. Almost made Santana give in after flirting with her suggestively all day long and crawling on top of her, pinning her under her. It was obvious Santana had at least felt _something _under her, but… It wasn't enough. Even if Rachel shouldn't have _had _to put so much effort into getting her girlfriend to touch her, not even satisfying in that way, Santana had still pushed her away.

Staring blankly at the television screen where they were watching Lilo & Stitch, Rachel was trying not to cry. Trying not to show Santana, who had her arm around her and absently stroking her hair as she leaned against her – like it was an _obligation_ – how much she was hurting. This was it, wasn't it? This was the end.

"Hey, how come you didn't sing along?" Santana asked as she switched off the movie, wrapping both of her arms around Rachel's body and snuggling down onto the couch, legs tangling with Rachel's, "You always do."

Rachel decided to use Santana's excuse. "Tired," she shrugged stiffly, knowing if any more words came out of her mouth she'd start sobbing. The longer she'd been lying there, the more pain she was in, the more angry she was.

"Hmm." Making a noncommittal noise, Santana started stroking Rachel's side. "You know, Rache, I'm surprised you haven't been pestering me about our Valentine's Day plans tomorrow." Pausing, obviously waiting for Rachel to chime in, Santana slowly began again, "Okay… I know the fact we have school'll suck, but after that and the dinner at Breadstix, I have a surprise. I've already cleared it with your dads 'n – "

That was enough. "_Stop_," Rachel snapped, pushing herself away, unable to take the pain lancing through her at each word coming out of Santana's mouth, "Just _stop_, already."

"Whoah, what?" Scrambling up, reaching out to touch Rachel's arm, she gasped when Rachel recoiled from her touch. "What the _hell_, Rache?"

Unable to answer Santana, Rachel headed straight to her backpack. Her heart was breaking with each step, each tear and sob she couldn't hold back anymore. Her head hurt. Her chest hurt. Each gasping breath just made it worse.

"No, dammit, Rachel. What the hell are you doing?" Sounding freaked and bewildered, edging into desperate, Santana successfully managed to throw her arm around Rachel's front, tugging her up to lock her arms around her waist as she pulled her to her.

"No, let me go," Rachel protested, trying to struggle, trying not to _melt into her_, avoiding her face because she knew she'd start crying even _harder_, "Let me go."

But Santana wouldn't budge. "Rache, what's going on? Why are you crying?"

"Let me go." It was like everything was blurring together.

"Rachel. I'm tryin' to keep my cool here, but you're making it hard for me to – you're – you can't just blow up at me and expect me to let you walk out the door. You're always talking, so, go ahead. Do it. Talk to me."

Rachel couldn't listen to this anymore. She couldn't take it. So she cracked, "If you ever cared for me, _let me go_."

Santana immediately froze, then trembled like the air had been punched out of her lungs. She dropped her arms and stepped back, the action like a confirmation of all Rachel's worst fears. "Ever… Cared for you?" she repeated stiltedly, voice wounded and rough, "Rachel, what do you mean – I don't understand."

"Stop _lying_," Rachel pushed away, grabbing her backpack and holding it to her chest like a shield, "Just. Please. Stop lying. I know we're over, okay. I can take a hint. I won't make you give me a Valentine's Day when you obviously don't want to."

But Santana was shaking her head, red taking over her cheeks and around her eyes, confusion turning into anger bubbling to the surface in her gaze. "We're not over. I don't – _I love you_, Rachel." She raised her voice, moving to keep up with Rachel as she started towards the hallway leading to the front door, "What the _fuck_, Rachel? Rachel. What are you doing? C'mon. Dammit, _tell me what you're doing_. _Rachel_. **_Please_**. **_Tell me why_**."

Rachel didn't turn around, no matter how much the sound of Santana breaking down into tears was hurting her. They weren't real. They couldn't be real.

Santana's hand caught Rachel's, tugging her to a stop. "Please," the girl begged, all anger gone as she pressed her forehead to Rachel's back, hands clutching Rachel's weakly as her arms wound around her hips, "I don't know what's going on. Why you're saying these things."

"Because they're true," Rachel choked out, "You don't want me. You got what you wanted and now you're just playing with me. Like a toy." The words were just tumbling out of her mouth now, forcing their way through her closing throat.

"I'm _not_. You're my _girlfriend," _Santana shouted, wrenching herself away, "**_I love you_**!"

"**_Then why won't you touch me_**?" Rachel screamed, breaking down all the way, whirling around so Santana could see the shattering of her heart, "Had a month of sex and you're _done_? Holding onto me for the _fun of it_?"

Terror and pain, shame and sorrow slashed across Santana's face.

There. That was proof. "Right," Rachel breathed in devastation, backpedaling, hand searching for the doorknob, "See? I gave you my heart, Santana. I gave you _me_. I thought you were the one, the one I'd been waiting for."

"Rachel – "

"I thought…" Finding the doorknob, Rachel yanked the door open. So many, _too_ many words crowded in her head, trying to get out.

"Rachel, please don't go." Santana's voice cracked, her face swimming in Rachel's tears, "I'll talk to you. I'll tell you why. I'm so sorr – "

But Rachel was already out the door, almost tripping down the steps as she blindly tried to call her dads, the door closing with such finality behind her she knew Santana wasn't going to chase after.

* * *

All the instincts in Santana's body were telling her to run after Rachel, but she couldn't move.

"Mija?"

What had she done?

"Mija, you should probably sit before you fall down."

Hadn't she told Rachel why? Hadn't she?

Strong fingers curled around her elbow, and Santana turned to stare at her mother. "Santana, if you're not going to run after her, then come into the kitchen. I'll make you some tea."

"Mamí?" Santana whispered, "Mamí, I fucked up."

Maribel nodded, sighing. "You did, mija." Firmly turning her daughter to bring her into the kitchen, she led her to the breakfast bar, urging her to take a seat on the stool. Once that was done, she grabbed the nearest paper towels, slipping them into Santana's hands.

"I thought I told her," Santana stared at the paper towels, watching the white turn dark with each dropped tear, "Or maybe I thought she'd figured it out." She swallowed. "I don't know which, anymore."

"Well, you're going to have to tell her, even if it is again." Rubbing Santana's back, Maribel gladly opened her arms for her now sobbing daughter. "No, mija," she whispered, "You haven't ruined everything forever. Rachel loves you. Everyone can see that."

"But she doesn't think I _want _her," Santana cried, "But it's so _hard_."

Laughing softly, Maribel nodded. "I get the idea. Mija, look at me." Taking in the pain and fear on her daughter's face, wincing at how red and bloodshot her eyes were already, Maribel stroked her hair. "You're a young lady now, Santana. You're doing the right thing, and I'm proud of you." She smiled, nodding her head, "And I'm sure Rachel will be, too, when she has time to digest it. Once you tell her, give her time."

"Right…" Santana replied, chin trembling, allowing herself to be hugged again, "I'll try."

* * *

It was after eleven. Rachel's fathers had finally come home from their movie, apologizing profusely for missing her call, but she'd told them it was okay and she'd just walked. Aside from that, she wasn't able to say much more before she'd collapsed crying, only able to tell them that she had broken up with Santana before Santana was able to break up with her. Many glasses of water and her favorite dinner later, she was curled up on her bed, sobbing into the stuffed animal Santana had gotten her for their three month anniversary.

She couldn't sleep, Santana hadn't texted her or tried to contact her, and her whole body ached. She hadn't cried so hard since her and Finn's break-up junior year, but even then she was positive she hurt worse now.

Why hadn't Santana contacted her? The fact that she didn't had to mean that everything Rachel had said was true, then. There was no other explanation.

And Rachel couldn't stand it.

Suddenly, over her sobs and tears, the familiar sound of someone jimmying open her bedroom window caught her ear. Excitement, fear, relief, and anger all exploded inside her, and Rachel reared up, staring at the girl entering her room.

Sliding the window up, pushing her leg over the sill and straddling it for a couple of seconds before she managed to twist and push off with her palms, landing neatly on the floor, Santana almost immediately found her even in the gloom. "Rachel," she whispered.

"You shouldn't be here," Rachel responded, as neutrally as she could.

"I won't stay long if you don't want me to." Her voice husky, strained just as much as Rachel's was, Santana slowly made her way to the side of Rachel's bed. She took a seat.

Rachel flinched; she didn't know if she wanted to move back or fling herself at her. "What if I don't want you here at all?"

Santana closed her eyes. "I guess I'd deserve that."

There was quiet between them, their breathing loud to make up for it.

Rachel could feel her tears starting up again, and she drew in a deep breath. "Why are you here?"

Santana's clothes rustled as she shrugged, shaking her head. "I need to explain something to you. It's… Up to you if you want me to stay afterwards or not." Her voice was so quiet Rachel barely heard it.

Santana sounded as broken as Rachel felt.

"…Okay," she finally allowed, digging her fingers into her stuffed animal, hiding her chin into it.

"Thank you." Santana shuddered, then looked away. "Rachel," she whispered, "I love you. More now than when I first realized I did. And I have _never _been unsatisfied or unwanting or whatever the hell it is you think you are with me. You're perfect." She paused, obviously struggling with herself, "So perfect I forgot I should make sure we were on the same page. Especially when we never actually talked about the subject."

"Santana, I don't understand."

"I know." Softly cutting her off, Santana reached forward, sliding her hand along the bed and sheets between them. "On your birthday, the first day you fully shared yourself with me… When I shared myself…" Her eyes glinted, catching Rachel's, "For a month, we were the same age."

Disbelief started pushing at Rachel's throat. "Seventeen," she said shortly.

Santana's eyes closed again. "Seventeen. But then, on _my _birthday, I – "

Rachel launched herself at Santana, crashing into her and almost falling off the bed, "_You stopped sleeping with me because you suddenly turned __**legal**_?" she demanded, glaring at her.

"And you were _illegal_," Santana answered pushing forward and sideways so Rachel's back hit the bed, Santana rolling on top of her.

Rachel felt like screaming. "Are you crazy?"

"We're a _lesbian couple_, Rachel. In Hickstown, USA. Do you know how many people started posting on my facebook – our _friends and allies_ – that I would have to be extra careful with you because, even though we're both _vagitarians_, it would still be _illegal_?" In the stunned silence, Rachel staring up at her, Santana twitched and started crying the tears that had been threatening since she'd entered the room, the warm teardrops falling onto Rachel's forehead as she turned her head away alerting her to the fact.

Oh god. "San."

"I was _protecting_ _you_. _Us_. This isn't Columbus. This isn't fucking San Francisco. I didn't tell you, but _Sue_ even fucking called me into her office to warn me that the new mayor was looking for people like me – for _gays_ – to be made examples of." Santana's body shook, barely resisting as Rachel wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her down on top of her. "I didn't – I realized today – that I didn't tell you because I was ashamed that I couldn't – I _can't_ – _protect you_ if anything happened. I'd hoped you'd just _know_." Breaking down completely, Santana buried her head into Rachel's neck. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to think you were less than _everything_ I want – "

Squeezing her, Rachel started kissing the top of her head, stroking wherever she could reach. Her heart was still pounding so hard, but the tightness in her chest was easing. She waited a couple of minutes until Santana was calming down. "Baby. San. I'm strong too, you know. You shouldn't have kept that all on your shoulders."

"But you're _tiny_," Santana sniffled, wanly managing a smile in her words.

"And you're from Lima Heights Adjacent. I know how it is." Sobering, Rachel drew in a deep breath, urging Santana's chin up. "Santana. I'm still mad at you." When Santana opened her mouth, Rachel shook her head, "Ah! Listen. I'm probably going to be mad at you for a while, _even _if I understand where you were coming from. Because you _didn't_ talk to me. Because you hurt me." She bit her lip. "You hurt me a lot.

"But I love you, and I'm tired, and I miss you, and I appreciate that you told me _now_, and I _know_ we'll talk later where you can chastise me for turning on you because goodness knows I could have done that better and I know you're probably just _waiting_ to give me your own version of a verbal lashing, but I just…" Uncertainty slipped into her voice, "Really need to be cuddling right now." When there was no response, she added with even more uncertainty, "...Need to feel you."

Letting out a giant breath of air, her body relaxing, Santana pushed up on her elbows to look down at her again. "Thank you," she smiled, swooping down to press her lips to Rachel's, kissing her firmly and deeply and ending up sliding her arm under Rachel's shoulders because she was leaning up to meet her, starved for affection; Santana just felt so _good_, like water to a parched man, and she couldn't _help_ it.

"Oh god," Santana moaned, "I'm like fucking Finnessa and his mailman. Weren't we – _uhn_, _Rache_, cuddles?"

"It's the crying and stress," Rachel mumbled, ignoring her, sucking on Santana's bottom lip as she tangled her hand in Santana's hair, opening her legs so her still-girlfriend could more comfortably fit between them, "Makes it worse. Amplifies it."

"And the wait. God, I _know_ it's been so long." Thrusting her tongue into Rachel's mouth, Santana moaned again, starting an instinctual grind into Rachel when she started sucking on it. "_Fuck_," she grunted, rolling them over again so Rachel was on top, pushing at her feet one by one to get her shoes off and kicking them to the ground, already lost back into Rachel's lips and tongue and teeth and hips rolling into hers, "I don't fucking care. I _need _you."

Not waiting for Santana to change her mind, Rachel was already up, straddling Santana's thighs to shove her pajama top over her head, tugging on Santana's jacket and shirt because she was taking too long. "And, and it's past midnight. Now. I checked."

Tossing her jacket and shirt to the ground, her bra a second later, Santana slid her arms on either side of Rachel's waist, pulling her into her, chest to chest. "I love you," she whispered, shivering as they touched.

Rachel kissed her softly, lovingly, smiling against her lips. "I love you too, San. Happy Valentine's Day."

Chuckling, Santana tipped them sideways, palming Rachel's hip and teasing her fingers under her pajama bottoms, "Happy Valentine's Day, Rache." Her eyes closed, her mouth drinking in Rachel's moan when she cupped her, slipping through her slick heat, "_Oh_. I missed this." Sliding down, then up, drawing more pants and moans from Rachel, she smirked, "You think we could blame Cupid?"

"Come here, you," Rachel groaned, digging her fingers into the back of Santana's neck, pulling her on top of her again, opening her legs for her as far as she could, already melting, "And remind me what I've been missing."


End file.
